


The Freak

by Irisen



Series: Fantastic beasts and Dark creatures [1]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Child Neglect, Death, Ends not as dark, Gen, Harry the Magical Creature of Doom, I'm talking about the story btw, Immortal!Newt, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, It will get lighter eventually, Obscurial!Harry Potter, Starts dark, death of children, psychological violence, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-09-01 12:05:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8623882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irisen/pseuds/Irisen
Summary: Harry is an Obscurial, the Wizarding World is panicking and Newt is both over excited and potentially immortal. Things get complicated.





	1. Chapter 1

He is not normal, and he knows it. This is not a good thing, of course. He might be aware of his own weirdness, but it does not mean he is pleased with it. In fact, he hates it more than anything.

Were he just an ordinary little boy and not a freak, his aunt and uncle might not be so disgusted by him, they might even have liked him, despites the fact that his parents were dangerous alcoholics and that, as their son, he will most likely end up just like them.

There is nothing he dislikes more than his freakishness, it is the source of all his troubles and, as he realized recently, every little thing that went wrong in his life can be traced back to it, his parent's death being the only exception since he does not remember it.

 

He is lucky, he often thinks, that he lives in such an accepting family. Lesser people might have thrown him in the streets, or even have him killed. The Dursleys did not, though.

This does not, of course, means that he likes them. They are brutal and rude towards him and, despite being young and small, he his observant enough to notice that their behavior, while somewhat explained by his weirdness, is not normal.

It is not normal and Harry, being the selfish creature he is, hold them responsible for the things they do to him, for the cupboard and for the occasionnal frying pan, for the insults and for Dudley's fists bruising his skin. It is surely not their fault, of course, they are not the freaks after all, but he likes to think of himself as a human boy, one with feelings and dreams, someone that should be respected and treated with love.

The thing is, he is probably not human.

He tries not to think about it too much.

 

What Harry does not know, of course, is that, up until now, he was very much human. A magical human, sure, but an human none the less.

However, as he turns around inside of his cupboard, spiders running down his back and water leaking from the walls around him, he catch himself wondering about his own humanity and about the reasons of his existence.

Of course, he does not think in such complicated terms, he is only ten years old after all, but the reflection is not less present. On this very special december night, when people, normal ones not freaks, around the world are cheering and exchanging gifts, Harry Potter is asking himself what it means to be human.

 

In the end, he decides that he can very much be human, since the only thing that distingates him from them is his weirdness.

 

The problem is, he doesn't know how to control it.

 

His weirdness is unpredictible and lashes out at the most unexpected times and in the most unexpected ways. Sometimes, it was innocent and mostly safe, like the time he turned his teacher's wig blue, but, on other times, it could be dangerous and, had something gone wrong, he could have died or hurt someone, just like the time he somehow ended up on a roof, several feet above the ground and with a strong wind pushing him around and almost making him fall.

And die, probably.

 

He has no way of stopping it conciously, no way of restraining it and of making sure anything weird would not happen to him again, no assurance he would be safe, and human, one day.

But he tries.

Oh, how he tries.

 

At first, it does not work and, when Dudley shoves him against the wall one day, he ends up breaking both of his cousin's arms without even touching him. The fallout is spectacular and he spends four weeks locked into his cupboard with only one meal a day. It's dreadfully boring but he is used to it, besides, he feels bad enough that boredom seems like the least of his problems right now.

He has never felt so disappointed in himself. He has failed. He always fails. Maybe he is not human after all.

 

However, Harry is nothing if not determined and, once he is let out of his cupboard on the first day of February, he tries again, he burries his weirdness deep inside of him, down with his sadness and the dark feeling of wrongness he gets everytime he thinks about his own humanity.

And this time, it works.

 

It works and nothing weird happens to him, he is perfectly human and, while he still hates the part of himself that was born wrong and unnatural, he is not disgusted with himself as a person anymore.

 

And then he starts to shift.

 

It happens as he is running away from Dudley and his gang. It is sudden and unexpected, like it always is. He is running and, suddenly, he stumbles and he falls. The other children catch up to him, one of them kicks him in the stomach, there is tears in his eyes and blood in his mouth.

 

Everything turns black.

 

Suddenly, he changes. It is not a slow change but a brutal one, he is human and then he is not, he is small and hurt and then he is gigantic and powerful. He has no eyes but he sees everything around him, no skin and no nerves but he feels the wind that blows and twists around him, around his strange, stretched out form that has nothing of an human body anymore.

He moves with ease through the air, not even touching the ground, and wraps himself around the boy who kicked him, Piers.

 

He is so, so angry.

 

His rage fuels him and he cannot think straight. His body turn stronger, sharper and black claws tear into the bully's skin, the cold of his form seeping through the boy and stopping the bleeding before it even started, freezing him.

He dies instantly.

 

Even as he feels the child's body sagging against him and as he tastes his life escaping him, he can't feel anything besides rage and bloodlust. He shifts again and the corpse falls to the ground with a dull thump.

Dudley screams.

They try to run, of course they do, but he is everywhere and everything and he does not even have to move, black tendrils spreading into the air, blocking his cousin's path and, slowly, pushing him back towards him.

 

He is ready to strike, ready to end the human's life when he shifts again.

 

There is no reason behind his return to a more human looking form but, as he changes, he feels the rage slowly leaving his mind, and a wave of guilt and disgusts washes over him. He falls to his knees and the ground his cold and hard against his skin. There is a corpse on his left, a scared boy right before him.

 

"Please don't kill me." says Dudley, "I won't tell anyone, I promise."

 

His cousin is crying and trembling but he does not seem to realize it, there is only fear in his eyes and, Harry realizes it only after they have both gone home and he is hidden in his cupboard, alone and definitely not human, he, the freak, is the one he fears. The Dursleys were right, he is a monster.

 

This only makes him hate his weirdness even more.

 

He knows he killed Piers, he feels bad about it, of course, but he can't help but feel that, if he wasn't such a freak, it would not have happened, that it somehow was his weirdness' fault the other boy was dead, that he had no responsibility in his death.

It's not his fault that he is not human.

If only it could go away.

He wants to be normal.

He wants to be human.

 

And this is how the Wizarding World loses its savior without even noticing it. Harry Potter disappears slowly, consumed by his own magic, dark and powerful enough to obliterate the Horcrux hidden in his soul. Where there used to be a frightened child, there is now one of the most terrible of the many magical creatures in the world.

An Obscurus.

And the fun thing is, no one knows about it yet.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loved the movie and I was bored during class so I just wrote the first chapter of this story. Blame the plotbunny, not me.  
> Well, I'm pretty sure there is going to be a lot of Obscurial!Harry fics, I look forward to it.  
> Also no Newt in the first chapter, he will come after, maybe in the second one, I don't know yet.  
> Right now, I'm still in class so I will not be long.  
> Ah, and I'm still not a natural english speaker and, since I'm not in the most calm of settings, there might be a lot of mistakes in here. Please point them out to me (if you want), I need to get better in english ^^
> 
> Anyway, hope you liked it !  
> I wish you a good day/night


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings : Violence, Minor character death, normalization of abuse (by one of the characters), imprisonment.
> 
> This chapter is not lighter than the previous one so be warned.

By the time he is eleven, Harry has lost the count of how many times he has shifted since the day of Piers' death. His cupboard is covered in claw marks and his blankets are all torned up, destroyed by the beast hidden inside of him.  
It has only been five months but he feels as if the darkness has always been here. He understands now why the Dursley hates him so much, why they do not treat him like the other children, it seems almost logical. In fact, he is even a little impressed that they managed to see through him so easily when he himself had not yet detected what kind of monster he was.  
They may not be very clever but they are without a doubt perceptive, and he can respect that.

He still hates them, though. And it might seem selfish, since he is the one that was forced upon them and not the other way around, but he is a monster, a freak with a heart full of darkness and of sin, and selfishness is by far not one of his worst traits. He resents them for hitting him, starving him and exploiting him and, when he shifts, this resentment always turn into a calm rage, lingering under the surface.  
The Dursleys almost died many times. The thing inside of him wants them out of sight, burried under the ground, bodies cold and faces frozen in terror, like many other victims before.  
Harry does not want that.  
What Harry wants and what the thing wants are very different. He wants to live in peace and to get out of his cupboard, he wants to be normal and, more than anything, he wants to be able to feel something else thant the sorrow and the anger that seem to have taken over his heart.  
The thing wants only two things : revenge and destruction. Its feelings are cold and it only thinks of violent thoughts, of doing things that make Harry tremble and comfort him in his decision to stand up to it to protect the Dursleys, even if there is no love between them.

They cannot end up like Piers.

Because, he realizes one night, the thing may be separate from him but it still originates from his body and he definitely have the ability to contain it, at least a little.  
What does it say about him if he leave someone to die when he has the power to save them ?  
He doesn't want to turn into even more of a monster.

So he fights and he tries to control the darkness, he claws at his own hands and at the walls of his cupboard instead of tearing through the soft, mortal bodies of his own family. He bleeds for them and strains his mind and his will in a way no child should ever have to do.  
He loses the few pieces of innocence he still has left.

But he does it and, on the night of his eleventh birthday, his eyes locked on the dirty ceiling of the small wooden shack Vernon just decided they should spend the night in, he realizes that Piers and Mrs Figgs' cats are his only victims to date. Its only victims to date.  
Harry doesn't kill anyone.  
Harry is not a monster.  
At least he hopes so.

Someone knocks at the door.

No.

Someone, or something, bang at the door. Very hard. Everybody wakes up instantly. He hears his uncle moving in the chamber on his left and sees Dudley sitting up slowly, throwing a scared look at him.

"I didn't tell anyone" says his cousin.

Harry sighs and tries to calm the voice in the back of his head that is screaming at him to end the life of this moron, to take his revenge for all the time he got punched or mocked by him.

"It's not me." he answers, sitting up as well.

Dudley seems to ease up and the sight of someone feeling better that the stranger trying to break down the door is not actually you trying to murder them is definitely a weird thing. Not that he blames the other boy, he himself is mostly unsure about is own self-control.  
Both of them know that the Dursleys' lives are hanging on a very thin thread right now.

Then things starts to move, a giant man enters the room, adults are talking and yelling at each other and it is all happening so fast that neither one of the two children has the time to stop and process the situation. Harry gets a birthday cake and the thing inside of him is screaming and twisting and he can feel the skin under his clothes starting to twitch, to change.  
He is cold.

He bits his lips and Dudley starts to shake again, slowly backing away, trying to run away from him without alerting anyone. Vernon and the giant man are speaking, neither them or Petunia notices anything.  
Someone talks to him, he doesn't respond, too focused on keeping the thing calm and non threatening to even understand what they are saying. The world starts to blur ...

"You're a wizard Harry."

... And it becomes clear again. It is so sudden it almost hurts him. He can see everything in details and it is as if time has slowed down. He watches a bead of sweat run down Vernon's neck, hears the sound of Dudley breathing, short and panicked.  
The giant human is watching him, his eyes soft with an affection Harry can't bring himself to understand. He is smiling and it is ridiculously warm, contrasting with the deep, unrelenting cold the boy is feeling all around him and inside his heart.

"What's a wizard ?" he asks, even if he already suspects the answer

The man frowns and turns to Vernon but, before he can open his mouth to provoke his uncle again, Harry repeats :

"What is a wizard ?"

His tone is not cold but it is inflexible and, as he speaks, he is looking at the intruder right in the eyes, which, for some reason, makes him squirm unconfortably.

"A wizard is someone with magic. Someone like me and you, who can use spells and-..."

Harry tunes the rest out.

Magic.

Is it what his weirdness is named ? This human speaks as if he wasn't the only one who had it, could it be possible that the power of magic was a common thing ? That he was not alone, after all, that he had people who could do the same incredible, freakish tricks than him like turning someone's wig blue and making their hair grow back in only one night ?  
Like killing a boy their age in nothing more than a few seconds.  
Like destroying walls and crushing the skulls of cats with a mere thought.  
Like flowing through the darkness, heart full of murder and head full of inhuman screams.

No.

Vernon screams something and tries to attack the intruder, who lift effortlessly his ridiculously large umbrella before him, as if it was some kind of sword, or a gun.

His uncle tumbles backward, hands clawing desperately at his mouth, which looks like it has been sewed close. He screams and the sound resonates inside his cheeks and his throat, unable to pass the barrier of his lips.

No.

The intruder turns to Harry again, lowering his umbrella and smiling at him.

Then he sees the cake, lying on the floor in a sad pile of sugar dripping on the dusty wood, the words written on it undistiguishable, and his smile becomes a concerned frown. He raises a hand, and approaches the boy, a bit too quickly maybe.

No.

Harry snaps.

The thing insides of him howls and burst out of his body, tearing through his skin and his bones, overthrowing his mind and taking possession of his actions. It grows bigger and bigger as it stucks itself to the ceiling, then to the ground, twirling around in a mad, lethal dance.

Dudley is crying.

The darkness that used to be a boy leaps at the intruder, who only has enough time to raise his umbrella, as if it would protect him. The object is devored in a matter of seconds, the thing only pausing briefly at how surprisingly familiar the silver hair burried in the wood tastes like, before trying to get at the man again, all the while spreading its shadowy body in every corner of the room, forbidding anyone to leave.  
It can kill them all in an instant but it enjoys playing with its preys, making them suffer like it itself did in the past, making them understand what real fear was like.

The intruder is holding a shoe in his hand. It is old and worn and does not feel weird at all, like the silver hair did.

Petunia tries to reach the door and steps inside of the black mist before it. Her legs are destroyed instantly, scratched by a million little claws that goes so deep the thing can see the bones behind all the blood that is pouring out of her, a liquid so dark it almost seems black. There is no light, only the moon, but the thing is not disturbed. It does not need eyes to see.  
Someone screams and there is a movement, a sharp noise.  
Then there is nothing.

The intruder is not here anymore and the thing feels its anger multiply tenfold. It raises itself off the ground, reforming into a tiny black ball, made of pure darkness and howls again.

Then it explodes, filling the room with its body so violently and so strongly that the walls can't support it and collapses instantly. The Dursleys are crushed by the force behind the assault and their bodies fall on the slipery stone outside, Vernon slides and topples down into the inky sea, his wife follows shortly after.  
Harry screams and it is not out of sorrow but out of pride, of a vengeful sort of victory. He has won. He has destroyed the enemy, and he would continue to do so.

Slowly, and without him realizing it, his soul is starting to shred itself in small pieces. Originally pure and bright, it is now turning blacker and blacker with each passing second.

There is a flash.

Humans are standing were the shack once was. He looks down at them, twirling in a circle several meters above the sea. They are dozens, all of them stinking of fear. One in particular, an old man with a long white beard and a piercing gaze, has tears running down his cheeks.  
He regroups his body and prepares himself to lunge at the group.

However, and he had not expected it, they attack first.

Wooden sticks are pointed at him, in a position not unlike the one the first intruder used to threaten Vernon. The mouths of the humans open, and, in unisson, they say a word that makes him shake violently, backing away in disgust and, maybe, in fear.  
A bright light jumps out of the tip of their sticks and, while he can evade most of the beams, some strikes him and it is so painful that he can't help but let a scream of rage out. Blinded by his anger and wanting only revenge, he flies down to meet his attackers. He is fast, so fast in fact that he takes them completely by surprise. He has the time to spread himself enough to wrap at least six of them in his body before the old man, the one who was crying, reacts and throws another ray of light at him.  
He retracts himself immediatly and fades down to a simple, intangible mist, nimble enough that he slips by the dumbstrucken freaks with ease, killing three more of them as he moves.

People are screaming and there is another flash.

More humans have appeared, some of them sitting in the air on what appears to be floating broomsticks, most of them just standing on the water, apparently not disturbed by its liquid nature.  
He is not worried as their strength can not match his, he will destroy them all and then escape to continue on his path of destruction and revenge. Humans need to see the evil they created themselves, they need to learn and to suffer in order to never make the same mistake again.

He brings another four of the freaks down before another light blinds him, throwing him off.  
Flinching in pain, he floats away from the offensive ray, retreating far above the sea.  
He does not see the wizards hidden behind him, cloaked in mist and wearing invisibility trinkets, and, when he does notice their presence, it is too late and they have already sent their curses at him.

For a moment, he feels nothing, not even rage.

Then he falls and the world erupts in pain.

-

When he wakes up next, he has chains around his feet and his wrists and his throat is bound to the wall behind him by a thick metal collar. He tries to move and only manages to slide his arms a little to the side, unable to change his position and, as he realises belately, unable to even see where he is since the room -if it is even a room- he is sitting in is shrouded in darkness.

He wants to call for help but his throat feels raw, as if he has just spent several hours doing nothing but screaming. And he may very well have. He stays silent and tries to bring his legs up to his chest, the chains blocking them halfway there. He is hungry, tired, and the cold still hasn't gone away. In fact, it is now even worse than before, the place he is in is very humid and he isn't even wearing his shoes, his toes are freezing.

And the worst thing about it is, even when it was let out and sated -and he really doesn't want to think about what it means- for the first time since its creation, the darkness is still there, stronger than ever.  
He tries to breath but finds that he can't, panic fills his throat and thrums behind his eyes. He can't think clearly.

Maybe this is what he deserves, he thinks, more afraid than he has ever been in his whole life.

The darkness, of course, seizes the opportunity and takes possession of him. He shifts.

It spreads again, faster than before, trying to get out of the room it is trapped in, exploring its flawlessly smooth walls, its corners, pressing itself against the ceiling. It can feel a power stopping it from tearing the barriers apart, an insisting, light ward that blocks its advance.  
Of course, it only serves in making it angrier.  
The monster bangs and bangs against the stone walls, trying to dent it with its many claws, then turning into mist and twirling at full speed in the center of the room before launching itself at a corner. It tries everything and, when everything doesn't work, it tries again, more violently, as if brutality was the answer to the situation it was in.

Burried deeply inside of his own mind, Harry cries.

-

Albus Dumbledore is currently going through one of the worst days of his life.

For someone as old as he is, he has surprinsingly few of them, since he has an uncanny ability to be able to see the best part of even the worst of situations. When James and Lily died, he was sad, of course, but he was also proud and relieved that the war against his former student had come to an end. When he had faced Gellert for the last time and had sent him in prison, he had been disappointed and angry at his former lover but was also happy for all the children that would be able to grow up in times of peace, now that the fighting was over.  
When his little sister died, however, he did not even try to find something positive about the situation and now, he is feeling the same way he did at the time : empty and exhausted.

Harry Potter had had a bright future in front of him. He would have gone to Hogwarts this year and would have been Sorted into one of the four Houses. He would have met children that were magical just like him and would have walked the same brilliant path as his parents, becoming a magnificient wizard and in the end, maybe, a true symbol of hope in the mind of the wizards and witches of Great Britain.  
The teachers at the school were all eager to meet him, even Severus was a little more agitated than usual, and Minerva had had a smile on her lips for the whole past week.The young boy that was supposed to meet Hagrid this night (and the fact that they had to send someone was, in itself, a clue that something was going to go terribly wrong) was the legacy of his parents, a living memory of them with his green eyes and messy black hair, and the sole survivor of the Halloween attack.

He is not anymore.

Because, as they just learned and watched with a growing horror, Harry Potter is an Obscurial.

The last living Obscurus detected in one of the developped wizarding countries died almost seventy years ago, during Gellert's prime. In fact, Gellert was involved with the creature at the time, being one of the reasons it ended up so twisted and so full of anger.  
That the next Obscurus in the occidental magical world is also its famed savior, a symbol of the light, is so terribly cruel it almost seems like a joke. That's what he thinks when he recognizes the small form of the Boy-who-Lived floating in the sea water, back to his human form, for a time at least.

But now, several days later, he has had the opportunity to see the results of the investigation around the boy's -is he even a 'boy' anymore ? Or a 'he' ?- background, and he feels like the biggest fool in all of existence. It is his fault if things turned up the way they did, his fault if Harry Potter is now one of the darkest magical creature that ever existed, his fault if the child will probably not live to see his twelfth birthday.  
He was the one trusting enough to put him in the custody of the Dursley couple. At the time, he thought he was doing him a favor by allowing him to be raised away from the fame attached to his name, but Minerva had been right, they were the worst persons he could have chosen. Why oh why had he been so foolish ?

He has to fix his mistake, but he does not know how to do it.

Not even the medias are happy about the situation when they get hold of the story. Their tone is respectful and serious, and they are undoubtedly sad, but they still publish it. The status of the beloved child savior of Wizarding Great Britain spreads like wildfire and it is not long before people are burning pyres and lighting candles in the memory of the boy, as if he was dead already.  
Maybe he is, thinks the Headmaster as he watches a thick, black mist thumping violently against the barriers of the cell they have put the child in a week ago.  
The fact that he has neither eaten or drank anything for all this time only serve to establish his status as a magical creature, a dark and scary one at that, even more. The Obscurus is present nearly constantly now but, sometimes, the darkness clears, he has already seen it, and the form of a child can be seen behind the black fumes. It is still a chilling scene and, in the minds of wizards around the world, Harry Potter is no more. The Obscurus is the only thing that is left of him.

Later this day, the ambassador of the French Ministry of Magic sends them a owl bearing the condolences of his country, and with it is a note assuring them that, if the british MoM needs any help with taking care of the Obscurus they have recently acquired in their cells, France will, of course, lend them any wizards that may be of assistance.   
There is a deathly silence that lasts several minutes after Cornelius Fudge puts the letter down. The wizards in the room, all political figures and very influent people, are grim-faced. All of them, even the ones with ambiguous allegiances like Lucius Malfoy, are mourning the loss of the child that was supposed to bring them hope and are regretting the disaster that is the creation of an Obscurus, the result of a terrible failure of the Minister and its officials.

"What are we going to do now ?" finally says Fudge

He wipes the sweat off his face with a purple handkerchief, looking as distressed as they all felt.  
Nobody dares to answer him.

"What are we going to do now ?" he repeats, his voice a little firmer, "Do we ... Do we have to kill the boy ?  
\- There is no 'boy' anymore, sir," begins Amelia Bones, "What we have currently in our custody is a fully turned Obscurus, not a wizard."

They all know that, of course, but it is still a difficult truth to swallow, and the minister of magic is not the only one to shift uneasily when the Head of the justice department says outloud what they are all thinking.

"Sir." continues Bones, "We can't keep a level five beast in our cells for an extended period of time, if we do not reach a decision concerning its fate very soon, the Obscurus might escape."

Her pragmatism seems to rouse the other wizards present and suggestions begins to fuse from all around the room.

"Maybe we should lock it away, why not in Azkaban ?  
\- Don't be a fool Martin ! An Obscurus is a creature of darkness, the dementors are powerless against it. I suggest we kill it.  
\- We can't do that ! He may be an Obscurial but he used to be the savior of the wizarding world, think of the repercussions !  
\- Now is not the time for reflection Augusta, we have to act or this ... Obscurus creature will kill us all.  
\- Isn't there a way to cure the boy, to banish the beast ?  
\- Of course not, don't be stupid. And, even if there was a cure, it would be too risky. There is no way a wizard can enter this cell without getting himself killed.  
\- If no one can enter without dying then how do you plan to kill it in the first place ?  
\- Maybe professor Dumbledore could ..."

They are all arguing back and forth, their voices getting louder and louder, and their propositions get drowned in the noise they produce. Albus frown but stays silent, waiting for the calm to return so that he can make his own proposal. On the other side of the room, Lucius Malfoy is doing the same.

It takes them a good ten minutes to calm down, but the two men wait patiently, both aware of the other's desire to speak and of the duel that is about to take place between them. Their ideas are diametrically opposed, as they always are, and the one that will be picked above the other will be the winner of this round.

"Cornelius," says Albus, "if you allow it, I would like to call in a friend of mine. He is an expert in magical creatures and one of the few who has managed to interract with an Obscurus without dying. He may be the only one able to make the good decision here."

Fudge frowns.

"Wasn't the last repertoried Obscurus killed in 1926 ? How old is this friend of yours, Dumbledore ?  
\- I believe you have heard of him before," he answers, "his name is Newton Scamander."

Of course, every one of them knows who Newt Scamander is, the man used to be one of the most influent wizards in the Ministery, after all. His book was also praised internationally and had gone through many re-editing, which ensured that every child in the wizarding world had heard of it at least once, even if they did not read it fully.  
The minister of magic leans back on his chair and starts absentmindedly folding his handkerchief into a perfect square of purple tissue.

"This seems like a sound idea, the man is the best expert there is on fantastic beasts, after all..."

Malfoy chooses this moment to intervene.

"Newt Scamander is indeed one of the most qualified wizards in the domain of magical creatures, but there is no need to disturb him. I have an idea that might very well allow us to liberate young Mr Potter from the clutches of the Obscurus."

The wizards all turn to look at him, their faces expressing various degrees of disbelief.

"Go on Lucius, please." says Fudge, and Albus knows he has lost this battle.

Malfoy clears his throat.

"Well ... There is a ritual that has the potential to rid the boy's mind of the Obscurus, it is not a light one, however. But it is not illegal."

Probably because it is so obscure no one has thought of forbidding it, thinks Albus while barely stopping himself from gritting his teeth, an action that would not be very dignified.  
Amelia Bones seems to be thinking the same thing than he is and she intervenes :

"Excuse me Lucius, but isn't the Obscurus a manifestation of the Obscurial's magic directly attached to their soul ? How can one separate them without damaging it ?"

Malfoy sighs and twirls his cane between his hands, a nervous gesture that is much more calculated than it is geniune.

"We can't. There is no way of separating the Obscurus from the soul without permanently damaging it.  
\- Then why are you even speaking !" cries Fudge angrily, "If we wanted this ... thing to turn into a soulless vessel, we would have used Dementors !  
\- It is not the same, sir, what I propose is much more efficient than the Dementor's kiss."

The noble pauses, visibly enjoying the effects his declaration had on their little committy : Everyone, Albus included, is anxiously waiting for him to continue, wondering what kind of horrific and unethical ritual the head of the Malfoy family would offer them to perform.

"There is a way to, let's say ... _eliminate_ the soul of a vessel without damaging its intelligence and its memory at all." he pauses again, "Obviously, it is profoundly unethical but, with the right means of _persuasion_ , young Mr Potter might be able to live in our society without endangering anyone, not even himself."

There is a long silence. What Lucius Malfoy is speaking of, if it exists, would be one of the darkest form of magic there is, Soul magic. And Soul magic is a very obscure realm of magic, so obscure in fact, that there is very little regulations about it -which is what allowed Tom to find informations about the Horcruxes he wanted to make without much trouble despites their horrifying nature.

"I will think about it" says Fudge, pocketting his handkerchief.

He has already made a decision, they all know that.

Nearly two hours later, when he gets back to Hogwarts, the very first thing Albus does is grab a piece of parchment, a quill and a bottle of ink. He sets them on his desk and sits behind it, putting his head in his hand and feeling very much like the very, very old man he is.

 _'My dear friend,'_ he begins _'Once again, I find myself in dire need of your assistance'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who will appear in the third chapter ?  
> Anyway, I just wanted to thanks everyone who left kudos or who bookmarked this story ! It makes me both very happy and a little stressed, I'm kind of afraid I will disappoint you all somehow ('cause I can't write like I want to in English ... is that were the capital letter goes ? Or is it only if you speak about English people ?).  
> I thought about this story a lot today and, since I already had written a second chapter yesterday, I just decided to post it while I still felt the inspiration. I'm not sure about the quality, though. I literally have no means of knowing if it's good or bad before posting it since the only people I know that can read in English are either busy or don't like Harry Potter ... soooo ... yeah.  
> I guess it's going to be a surprise.
> 
> To anyone who is wondering why Newt isn't in the first chapters : He will appear later in the story and in the sequels, don't worry.  
> Also it will get lighter.
> 
> And with that I have to go ! It's getting late where I live (past midnight :/) ...  
> Hope you liked this chapter !  
> Have a good day/night !


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings : Newt.
> 
> For anyone that might be re-reading this story, this is indeed the last chapter, I'll write a sequel later.

When they notice what happened, it is too late.

They search the whole building, they run around the Ministry and they throw spells at every single stone, as if what they were looking for is able to turn invisible or to disguize itself well enough to avoid detection.

It is not.

They don't forget that, of course. In fact, they all know that a creature such as an Obscurus could never pass unnoticed-- it is too dark, too powerful, and, since its imprisonment, they all had been able to feel its presence, even when it was deeply buried under the earth, trapped into the lowest level of the Ministry of Magic.

However, while it might be hard for them to go against their common sense, it is harder still to admit that they have failed at such an extent that one of the most dangerous beings in the world is now roaming free in the streets of London, ready to cause more death.

 

So they panic.

 

They panic and they search the Ministry, over and over again, trying desperately to find a proof, a sign that things didn't go as badly than they suspect-- that this situation, already terribly negative, will not evolve into even more of a disaster.

 

All of them do not do that, of course. Some, including veterans member of the Aurors, keep their cool and try to convince the Minister and other important officials to immediatly gather search parties to scout the streets outside the Ministry. The Minister tears his handkerchief into small pieces and scream at them to get going and find that damn beast.

Ten minutes later, he comes back to them and apologize, before ordering them to begin searching for the Obscurus in London.

 

It is too late.

 

If the creature wanted to do something, it has already done it by now. It may have destroyed Buckingham Palace for all they know, or it may just have fled the city. Either one of these options are incredibly bad for them, the credibility of the institution is at stakes, and the odds are not in their favor.

 

The Aurors, already prepared and armed, stream down the streets of the capital as soon as they get the authorization. They fly above the buildings, spreading their senses in order to detect the massive darkness that just escaped, they run on the ground, cast patronuses, use artifacts and do anything in their power to try and find the beast.

It only take them one hour to establish that the creature isn't in the vicinity of London and they expand the area of their search to other, smaller town. They do not find anything more.

 

At the same time, a small group of Aurors, the only one that did not go out to look for the Obscurus, is being guarded by a dozen members of the magical justice department. While they are not trained to fight, the employees have the advantage of possessing their wands, which, the Minister had decided, is more than enough to keep them safe had then been infected by the beast's taint.

They do not know much about Obscuri, after all, they may very well be able to influence someone's mind, maybe possess them.

 

Even if they were inconcious when they were found, lying on the ground near the entrance of the monster's cell, the guards might be agressive once they woke up and, when the one being agressive was a trained Auror, things tended to get very brutal, very soon.

 

So they guard them. They guard the guard and it is such an ironic twist of fate that some of them can't help but burst into helpless laughter, their mind ablaze with panic and fear, not daring to think of what will happen to them now, and to their loved ones.

 

And of the Statute of Secrecy too.

 

An Obscurus, as a magical creature, can be seen both by Muggles and by wizards. While this particularity raises the interesting question of the, seemingly quite selective, hability of non magics humans to detect magical beings - some of them, like Dementors, are completely invisible to them after all, and has fueled many future young magizoologists’ thesis, it is also quite unfortunate since, each time a child had turned into an Obscurial, the  wizarding world barely avoided a disaster by managing, mostly by luck and thanks to colossal sacrifices, to keep their secret. Somewhat.

The 1926 incident in New York, while forgotten by most of the city's population, had still left some traces and, the years after it, muggles (or No-Maj) were much more alert. If an Obscurus was to be let out in London, and with the many technological advances the non magical folks had made in the past years, their existence would probably be revealed to the whole world, and there would be no turning back.

 

The Department of Foreign Relationships is already on the move, of course, writing letters to the various magical  embassies currently in London, ready to send them away should the Aurors not find and capture the beast in time.

But for now, they have to do without the other countries’ help. The United Kindom has already been at the center of two major magical crisis of the twentieth century, a third one would be disastrous for their international image, which is already in disgrace since the war against Voldemort.

 

The Ministry tries to avoid contacting wizards that are not its direct employees, and Lucius Malfoy almost manages to convince the Minister not to call Dumbledore for help but, two hours after the Obscurus' disappearance, the two of them are forced to admit that they need the man's help, and desperately so.

 

So Dumbledore comes.

 

He appears in front of Cornelius Fudge in a burst of flames, his phoenix perched on his shoulder. And, with his dark blue robe and his piercing gaze, he looks more regal than the other man ever felt himself to be. By a twitch of the old man's wand, the doors of the office they are in close and half a dozen powerful wards attaches themselves to the walls, mixing with the ones already present without disturbing them.

A show of power that is both impressie and terrifying. Fudge would like to pretend that, in this moment, he is not afraid of the Headmaster of Hogwarts but that would be lying. People tend to forget it because of the man's old age and nice behavior but he had defeated Grindelwald in single combat, the same Grindelwald that was rumored to be so powerful he could do feats of magic unthinkable by most wizards _without even using his wand_.

Albus Dumbledore is one of the scariest men alive and, while Fudge does not fake his mild personnality and tendancy to be easily swayed on one side or the other, he is an intelligent person. One cannot ascend to the rank he holds without being at least a little clever, and he is wise enough to recognize the older wizard's superiority over himself in most domains.

 

However, he is the Minister and, as scary and dramatic Albus Dumbledore is, he is not the one in charge here. Fudge outranks him.

 

"Dumbledore," he says, "You kept me waiting. In such a dire situation, I hope you had a good reason for not anwsering my call immediately."

 

The headmaster raises an eyebrow, visibly sceptic. And he is right, Fudge had only called for him a few minutes ago after all. Without pushing the matter, the Chief Warlock puts his wand back inside the pouch he apparently wears on his right wrist, and sits calmly in front of the distraught Minister.

 

"There is indeed a reason for my tardiness, Cornelius," answers the wizard in a calm, soothing voice that does nothing but grates on Fudge's nerves. "As soon as I heard of the Obscurus' escape, I contacted some of my old friends who, you will see, can tremendously help this search, as some of them are experts in the field of magical beasts."

 

The Minister grits his teeth.

 

"I suppose that means you contacted Mr Scamander. How convenient that he happens to be free and ready to answer any call on the same day an Obscurus is released in London.”

Dumbledore humes, looking serene. “Well, you see, when you get as old as we are, you tend to have much more free time. I occupy mine by taking care of the new generation. Newt prefers to spend his with his family and his beasts. Besides his regular trips to foreign countries, I don't think he leaves his home a lot. It is not so surprising that he is in London today."

 

Dumbledore smiles paternally and Fudge glares at him, before sighing loudly.

 

"Very well Dumbledore. Scamander can search for the beast all he wants but, if he finds it, he is to bring it back immediately. The wizarding world has not forgotten who was behind the 1926 disaster."

 

The headmaster frowns.

 

"Of course we did not, Cornelius, but Gellert Grindelwald is in no way near London, there is no way he would be behind the Obscurus' escape.”

“You know what I meant Dumbledore !" He slams his hand on the table but the older man does not even flinch. Instead, he blinks slowly, visibly confused.

 

"I'm sorry my boy, but I don't. You don't have to worry about Gellert, we should focus on the matter at hand. The Obscurus."

 

If looks could kill, Albus Dumbledore would be dead by now.

  


-

  


"... hear me ?"

 

It is cold and it is dark. He knows that, even without light or eyes, he sould be able to see, but he does not. He does not and he is blind, he is lost, he is alone. There is no one with him in the place they locked him in, no one except the thing, the darkness, the monster that his slowly nibbling at his soul, eating his heart, devouring his feelings and his thoughts.

He has trouble remembering his name.

It is something that start with a "H", isn't it ?

 

He isn't sure anymore.

 

"Can you hear me ?"

 

He is pretty sure he used to be human before. Being human means you have two legs, two arms, a head and a whole lot of other organs, a lot of them necessary to your prolonged survival. Being human also means that you can feel things, about you or about people. Sometimes about things that are not even alive, or about animals. Feelings are many and varies  in their intensity and meanings.

But most of them are only memories to him now.

And his memories are getting fainter and fainter with each of the monster's howls, of its strikes against the perfectly smooth walls, of its weirdennes stretching out of it, invisible and intangible but still there and powerful.

It is wrong.

 

"Harry I know you can hear me, please listen!"

 

His name does start with a H. He remembers it now.

He is Harry.

 

Harry what?

 

There is supposed to be something after the word, this is why it's called a first name, after all, because there is a second, maybe a third.

Maybe he should ask the voice.

 

The voice is not cold, it is not dark and it sounds confident. Harry thinks that it is not lost, that it is exactly where it wants to be.

Why would someone want to be there ?

 

"I've come here to talk to you, Harry. I want to help. I can help! I can get you out of here and I can help you learn how to control yourself."

 

The darkness roars, screaming its anger and its disgust at the voice.

 

"LIAR!"  it shrieks

 

It lashes out, scratching stone, cutting through barriers, destroying everything around it, everything it touches.

Like it always does.

 

"Liar," it mutters.

 

The voice is standing in front of it.

 

The voice is not, of course, an etheral being without a physical form. The voice is human and, apparently, male. His body is small, next to Harry's, and slightly dusty, which is probably because of the mess made by the monster when it snapped.

The man is old, but not too much. Maybe a little older than Vernon and Petunia, but not nearly as old as the crying, bearded freak that brought him down a week ago. He has light, slightly curly, brown hair, streaked with some strands of white and grey, and bright blue eyes that, for some reason, are not widdened in fear right now.

 

"Well hello," breathes out the human, sounding both shocked and genuinely happy to see him.

 

The thing hisses at him but does not attack. Unlike other members of his race, this human does not seem agressive. It is such a strange behavior that even the thing, which is the one mostly in charge of their body right now, stops to look at him, intrigued.

Unless it is Harry's curiosity that is bleeding onto the demon, but he's not sure since it would mean he has some sort of control over it. Which he does not. At all.

 

"Hello," repeats the human, "I am not lying to you. I really want to help."

 

And he is telling the truth.

 

Harry flinches and rushes back into the cells, hovering over the damaged floor. If the man wants to help him, he has to think he would get something in return. He himself has nothing to offer so it is probably his weirdness that interests this stranger. That or the thing in him. It is so destructive and powerful that it would not surprise him if some people wanted to use it for themselves.

He begins to tremble and the walls shake with him.

 

The brown haired man steps back a little, raising his hands in the air before him.

 

"Harry, listen to me. If you do not want me to help you, or to come near you, I will not do it."

 

They stay silent for a moment.

 

"However," the man continues, "let me tell you this: You are not the first person I meet bearing this curse."

 

He isn't?

 

Harry calms down a little and, as his anger and his fear get slowly replaced by curiosity and interest, he feels himself become smaller and smaller, not quite an human yet but no longer the gigantic, dark beast that was invading the room only a few minutes ago.

The thing is silent.

No.

He can still hear it, at the back of his mind, but its presence manifests itself more in an annoying nagging than anything else. He can barely feel the bloodlust anymore.

 

If it isn't for the fact that he is still floating a few inches above the ground, he would almost believe himself to be normal again.

 

"In my life, I have met two other children just like you. I was not able to help them at the time, I came in too late."

 

The man's eyes are determined, steely but not in a scary way.

 

"But now I can help you and, because I can, I will. If you want me too. Because those people, out there, they believe that you are a monster, that you cannot be saved."

 

The stranger stops for a moment.

 

"Don't blame them, though, they are scared and scared animals are dangerous, I know that more than anyone ... and I also know that, under all that darkness and anger and fear, you are still there. And you deserve to be saved. And for a lot of reasons too! Because you can still have feelings, because you have a future before you, because if I don't help you, then I don't know who will!"

 

The man looks down at Harry, who is now sitting on the floor, his knees pressed against his chest and tears running down his cheeks.

 

"Because of all of this."

 

He crouches down, his eyes on the same level as Harry's.

 

"You should not die for something you don't know how to control."

 

There is a pause, again.

 

"I'm going to walk over to you Harry, if you want me to stop, I will."

 

The adult stands up slowly and, with careful and smooth movements, begins to advance towards Harry, who, for some reason, lets him do it, not even trying to stop him with his weirdness or with the dark thing.

 

"My name is Newt", says the man.

 

Then he enters the cell.

 

-

 

Newt steps over the rumbles and the broken stones, step through the mist of magic that still floats through the air, and tries to ignore the dark, oppressive presence of the Obscurial before him.

 

Even with Dumbledore's help and all the precautions he took to ensure he would be alone in the vicinity of the cell, there is no doubt the Aurors and Warders will soon be able to feel the state of the wards that were supposed to hold the Obscurus inside of its cell. They only have a few minutes left to exit the area and, after that, it will probably be too late.

 

Harry, the Obscurial, is back in his human form, thankfully. Like Amina used to be, he is nothing more than a child, at least physically. His green eyes are wide and scared, and his black hair is  dirty and ruffled. His face is angular and too thin for his age, his skin is pale, almost white.

All in all, the only thing that could betray him as a magical creature is the strange darkness in his gaze, a left-over from his Obscurus transformation. Credence looked just the same, all those years ago.

 

Slowly and in the most unthreatening way he can, the magicozoologist slid down in front of the boy.

 

"Thank you very much for trusting me Harry," he tells him in a low voice, "I'm sorry to be so brutal but we need to leave now, people are going to come down here very soon."

 

As soon as he says the words, he can see the boy's eyes widden ever further  and his skin begins to shimmer, a dark smoke rising from his shoulder. His form starts to blur.

 

"I have a way for us to leave without getting in any trouble, don't worry."

 

He reaches up behind his shoulder and take his backpack off, putting it on the ground and opening it in the same movement.

 

"See, I normally wouldn't be able to use this but your Obscurus has made quite a mess of the wards protecting this place, which helps a lot."

 

Harry doesn't stop his shaking and, the more time passes, the less he seems like an innocent little boy and the more he starts to look like a dangerous, murderous beast. This isn’t anything Newt hasn't seen before, so he doesn't worry too much.

But he should probably speed things up a bit, before the Obscurus gets a chance to free itself again.

 

"All right," he says as he unpack as quickly as he can a rather large piece of white tissue, "This... is a... camouflage sheet."

 

He puts it over Harry's shoulders, and takes another one out for himself.

 

"With it, no one is going to be able to see you, a bit like the mug-... soldiers. Yes. The soldiers outfit. They wear camouflage. This is that. Definitely."

 

He stands up, his invisibility cloak on his shoulders and the boy, after some hesitation, rises up to his feet, too. Newt smiles at him and, while he does not answer, his skin isn't smoking anymore, which is most likely a sign that he has calmed down.

 

The magizoologist notes that Harry, though not transformed, can show signs of the Obscurus living inside of him. While guiding the boy out of the cell and just as they enter the long corridors of the temporary detention block of the Ministry of magic, Newt mentally stores that thought away. He will pursue it another time.

This situation is both extremely stressful and wonderfully interesting, he knows next to nothing about Obscuri and, while he is a proud Hufflepuff, the Hat did think about sending him to Ravenclaw when it first realized just how curious the boy it was testing could be.

But the priority here is not to complete his own research. Harry is what matters the most and he himself has enough to worry about right now, he can't afford to be distracted, not yet.

 

They walk around the inconscious bodies of the Aurors that were supposed to guard the only prisoner of the Ministry cells. They will stay asleep for at least ten hours, that was what Albus had assured him and, since the man had found himself an excellent, if a bit rude, potion master, he trusts him on this matter.

 

"Harry, please wait. I need to do something before we go on further."

 

The Obscurial nods and stops, glancing warily at the rest of the corridor in front of him. It appears that, just like Newt, he is able to feel the presence of the Aurors coming down to confront them.

 

Not wanting to waste any more time, Newt catches a piece of the boy's coat, channels a bit of magic into his fingers and sends it directly into the fabric, which instantly change to reproduce the wall behind it. A bit out of breath, he concentrates again and sends his power in his own cloak, turning it invisible as well.

 

Harry is trembling.

 

"This is wrong," he tells him and, apart from the Obsucrus' screams, this is the first time Newt hears him speak.

 

His voice is small and tired, but there is a dark undertone in it, the promise of a violent and bloody outburst if Newt doesn't explain _right now_ what he has just done, why he has the power Harry hates so much in himself.

 

"We need to leave now," answers Newt, ignoring the way his heart is pounding into his chest and the way the child is looking at him, "We will discuss this later, I promise."

 

Harry looks at him, and he can almost see the battle raging inside the boy's soul, the desperate struggle between the boy and the Obscurus, each one of them trying to get control of the body. For the creature to be able to interfere so much in its vessel actions and forcefully possess him, he is without a doubt in a much more advanced state of the possession than Credence was.

In fact, he is almost the same than Amina was when she died.

He probably doesn't have much time left, the fight is tearing him apart.

 

There is a reason Obscurials die so young.

 

He has to help him.

 

Newt puts the cloak over his head.

 

"The camouflage is very good, can you feel me when I wear it ?"

 

The Obscurial does not respond, but the piercing gaze he directs at the older man's eyes is an answer in itself.

 

Now that he knows his 'savior' has magic, he seems to be able to sense it directly, how interesting.

 

Newt himself had had to train for a long time in order to be able to feel the world the way he did. He is a good sensor, and this little boy, young and inexperienced in magic, manages to best him without even trying or being aware of what he is doing. He doesn't know if it is because of his status as an almost magical creature or if he already had this talent when he was still human, but it is no doubt fascinating.

Focus.

He has to focus.

 

Harry goes under his own cloak as well and follows him silently as he makes his way towards the closest lift  which is not currently occupied by a full squadron of Aurors.

 

Once they arrives, he stops and starts looking around in his bag, taking out two small vials, both filled with strange looking liquids, one thick and golden and the other one thinner and colored in a deep, curiously glowing, blue.

 

He swallows down the two liquids, the tastes mixing in his mouth and making him want to gag.

 

Blood, even the one of magical creatures, did not taste good at all.

 

Then, he feels it begin to affect him and he has to shake his head voliently in order to dispel the sudden buzzing in his ears. He sighs. This method may be the most efficient way of getting out of the Ministry without having to use his wand, and risk triggering both Harry and the tracking spells placed on it, but it is not one he likes very much. He didn't take the liquids by force, his beasts actually gave them to him on their own, but it still feels wrong somehow.

 

He turns towards the lift and puts his hands on the metal door in front of him, his fingers sliding inside the slight gap, seperating the two parts of it, and he pulls. Hard.

 

The lift door open instantly, but the noise is deafening. The metal bends and tears and the locks shatter. With that, they are sure to have been detected and he can already feel the Aurors running towards them.

 

"Harry," he says, "Please grab my arm."

 

The boy flinches away violently, then takes a step towards him when the sound of running starts to reach their ears. The wizards are so, so close.

 

He takes his arm.

 

Newt smiles gratefully at him, forgetting for a moment that the boy, while he seems to be able to feel him, can't see him, and jumps into the dark hole behind the remains of the lift door. His body is light, weightless and, despites Harry clutching his arm, smoke rising, once again, from under his shirt, he has no trouble stopping his fall.

He floats for a few seconds, suspended in the dark, and hears the rapid, panicked breathing of the child he is currently trying to break out of the Ministry of magic.

 

"Don't worry, everything is fine."

 

Everything is not fine, of course, but, if he gets his chance to help, everything might very well get better. There is nothing he will not do to try to find a way to save this boy. He has failed before, two times, but it only means he will have to try harder, a child's life depends on him.

 

He begins his flight up to the first floor, and barely avoids the many spells the Aurors, that just arrived on the scene, throw at him from behind the destroyed metal door. Some of them swears and he can hear the sound of a few brooms being accioed beneath him. Why the Ministry have brooms under ground his a question left for another time, however, they have to run. Well. They have to fly.

This is going to be a lot of fun.

 

It has been some time since he last escaped from a Ministry, he hopes he hasn't lost his talent for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone !  
> It took me a bit longer to write this chapter than I thought it would, I had a pretty busy week (important exam last wednesday) ... But hey ! Here it is now !  
> Soooo ... Here is Newt. How did you find him ? Did he succeed in making his Grand Escape ? What do you think ? Do you know what the liquids he used were ?  
> And I have a beta (HunterPeverell ) now ! First time having a beta, it's super useful (I've been making mistakes I didn't even realize existed :0) ! Thanks a lot for helping me :)  
> In fact, thank you all for your kudos and your comments. It makes me very happy to see that you're enjoying this fic.  
> Well. Once again I'm in class so I'm going to finish this note soon.  
> Ah ! There is not only three chapters.  
> Ok so, basically, I intended to write only three but, while writing this one, I realized that what I wanted to tell in the first story could not be told in only three chapters (well, it could, but I don't write very long ones ...), so there is going to be more ! Between 2 or 3 I think. I don't know yet ^^'  
> Anyway, I should really get back to my class, I hope you liked this chapter and I wish you a good day/night !


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